


Before It's Too Late

by Aria_Lerendeair



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, John gets pissed at Sherlock, Johnlock Get Together, M/M, Mary's Got some secrets, Sherlock realizes he loves John, and it hurts, season three, series three spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 16:55:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aria_Lerendeair/pseuds/Aria_Lerendeair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock leaves the wedding reception, ready to leave John and Mary to their blissful without-him life.  Except, it turns out things are never that easy.  Especially when he finds out that Mary is much more than she seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before It's Too Late

**Author's Note:**

> Um. I have no excuse for this. It just kinda happened.

  
  
  
  
Sherlock swung his coat around, slipping his arms into it easily.  Finished.  It was finished.  He buttoned it calmly.  He could hear John’s laughter.  See the bow in Molly’s hair bounce.  Imagine Mrs. Hudson’s pleased smile.    
  
  
His hands slipped into his pockets and he started to walk back down the path.  No more need for him.  The collar protected him from the slight chill in the air.  John would put his jacket around Mary’s shoulders.  

  
Mycroft had promised that the details of the honeymoon had long since been finalized.  John and Mary would enjoy a wonderful two-week stretch in Brighton.  In one of the lesser-known Holmes estates, though neither of them knew that.  He strode faster, the music finally starting to fade.  

  
It was finished.  At last. 

  
“Sherlock?”  

  
John.  Always John.  Sherlock paused and allowed himself a moment to take a slow breath before he turned to face John.  “Mary will be wondering where you are.”  

  
“She sent me-”  John shook his head.  “Doesn’t matter.  Where are you going?”  

  
Don’t lie to John.  Don’t lie.  Don’t tell the complete truth, but don’t lie.  “Back to London.”  

  
John stared at Sherlock.  “Will you be there when I-”  He swallowed.  “When we get back?”  

  
Don’t flinch.  Sherlock tightened his hand into a fist inside his pocket.  We.  It will always be we for John.  Never I.  Never again.  We.  Mary and I.  Soon to be Mary, I and a third.  “Don’t be ridiculous John.  You have my cell phone number.  I am only a call away.”  

  
John nodded.  “All right.”  He looked at Sherlock and gave a small smile.  “Thank you, Sherlock.”

  
“You do not need to thank me John.  As I said.  It should always be the other way ‘round.”  Sherlock forced his lips into a small smirk, enough to reassure.  Just enough.  Enough to convince John.  This would be gone.  This would be the last time he had a chance.  The very last time.  “Say goodbye to Mary for me.”  

  
“She’d rather you say goodbye Sherlock!”  John said.  Sherlock had already turned around and started to walk away again.  

  
“No, she wouldn’t.”  Sherlock said, walking faster.  John hadn’t heard him.  It didn’t matter.  It was done.  John was gone.  

 

 

  
  
  
  
Mary looked up as John rejoined the party, smiling widely at him.  “Is he all right?”  

  
John shook his head.  “No.  Not sure.  He said to say goodbye.”  

  
She smiled at John, and leaned up for a kiss.  “He wasn’t saying goodbye to me John.”  

  
He wanted to argue, but remembering the look on Sherlock’s face…  “He said he’d only be a phone call away when we get back.  I’m certain he will be ‘round our first day back.”  

  
Mary laughed.  “I am certain that you are right.  Now, come, Doctor Watson.  I want to dance with my husband.”    
  
  


 

  
  
  
  
Two weeks went by too fast.  Mary laughed as she tugged John back into the flat.  “Come on, come on!  We will surprise him properly!”  

  
“Mary, don’t you think we should have-”

  
“When has he EVER called us to let us know he would be coming by?”  

  
John chuckled.  “Well.  Never.  But, still-”

  
“No stills about it!  Come on John!”  Mary unlocked the door to 221b and froze, staring in shock at the flat.  

  
“Mary?”  John stepped up behind her and stared.  Empty.  It was all...empty.  The books, the furniture, the chemistry set in the kitchen, all of it was gone.  

  
“John?”  

  
He ignored Mary’s voice and strode to Sherlock’s bedroom, throwing open the door.  Gone.  Nothing left.  John caught sight of a book on the bed and picked it up.  

 

  
The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson  
Written by: John H. Watson

 

  
John felt tears well in his eyes and his throat close up.  He opened the cover and stared at the untidy scrawl there.  

  
To the best man I will ever know, and to the only man ever brave enough to call me a friend.  This is dedicated to you, John.

  
-Sherlock Holmes  
  


John dropped the book to the bed and pulled his phone out, swiping angrily at his eyes.  He opened his contacts list and pressed call.  “Pick up you bloody git.  You said you would be only a call away.  You told me that!”  

  
“John?”

  
“You have reached the voicemail of Sherlock Holmes.  If your consciousness must truly intrude upon mine, leave a message.”  

  
“Damnit Sherlock!  You can’t just disappear again!  You can’t!  Call me back or a bloody nose will be the least of your worries the next time I see you!”  John shouted into the phone, falling to the bed.  

  
“John.”  Mary said, her voice soft as she walked into the room.  “John.  We’ll find him.  He can’t have gone far.”  

  
John wanted to laugh as he stared down at his phone.  “How can you possibly know that?”  

  
“Because you’re here.”  

  
He snapped his mouth shut and rubbed his hand over his face.  “Mary-”

  
“We’ll find him.  Don’t worry.”  She promised.  

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“The first place they went was Baker Street.  You knew they would, didn’t you?”  

  
“Of course.  Obvious.”  

  
“And why have you decided to live here instead?”  

  
“What do you want Mycroft?”  

  
“What happened to this being the ‘Next Chapter’ of your life?  Have you realized you have been left behind by the Doctor and Mrs. Watson?”  

  
“Shut up Mycroft!”  

  
Mycroft hummed and looked at his fingers.  “Shall I tell them you have died?”  

  
“What?  No!”  

  
“Then will you answer one of the six calls or seventeen messages that Doctor Watson has left for you?”  

  
Sherlock turned over, presenting his back to Mycroft.  His phone buzzed again.  “Eighteen.”  

  
Mycroft moved closer and sat on the edge of the bed, at Sherlock’s back.  “You cannot avoid him forever.  You cannot even wait until it stops hurting.  You must learn to live with the hurt.  It’s what happens when you open your heart, you know.”  

  
Sherlock didn’t answer.  He couldn’t.  John.  Gone.  

  
“Are you going to push him away until he decides to find another best friend?  Or until he decides you hate him?  What is your game this time Sherlock?”

   
  
Don’t answer.  Don’t give Mycroft the pleasure.  He wants something.  Emotion.  Action.  Baiting.  Ignore until left alone.  Work towards deleting John.  John and Mary.  Delete them both.  

  
Mycroft sighed and stood.  “Love hurts Sherlock.  I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”  

  
“What do you know about love?”  Sherlock snarled.  Love.  No need for such an emotion.  Loneliness.  Much more accurate.  John, gone.  Belongs to another.  His blogger.  His Doctor.  No longer.  

  
“More than I ever wish for you to experience Sherlock.”  Mycroft touched Sherlock’s shoulder and watched him flinch away.  “I’m sorry.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It was a week later that Mycroft sat in his office, his fingers steepled in front of him as he studied Mrs. Watson.  

  
“You know where he is, don’t you?”  

  
“I do.”  He gave a small nod of acknowledgement and continued to stare at her.  She was hiding.  

  
“Please tell me.  John is frantic.  First Sherlock leaves the reception early, then he moves out of 221b, and now he will not answer his phone.”  Mary leaned forward.  “Please tell me where he is.”  

  
“I am not my brother’s keeper Mrs. Watson.  If my brother does not wish to speak with-”

  
“But he does.  He must.”  She cleared her throat and stared back at Mycroft.  

  
Unafraid.  Defiant.  Certain.  Clothing choice betrays inherent need to feel comfortable.  Comfortability leads to confidence.  Knowledge.  Sherlock has told her.  Foolish.  “And why must he?”  

  
Mary lifted her chin a notch.  “You already know the answer to that question.”  

  
He acknowledged her with a smirk.  “I do indeed.  You have married Doctor Watson under false pretences.  Your chosen profession means you know how to fake the symptoms of pregnancy well enough to fool even Sherlock.  That game shall end soon.  Why should I allow you near him?”  

  
“I love John.”  

  
“Yes.  You do.  But you are working for someone other than yourself Mrs. Watson.  You are dangerous.  For both Sherlock and John.”  

  
“Yet you will not stop me.”  Mary stood from her chair and brushed off her skirt.  “Let me see Sherlock.”  

  
Mycroft hummed.  “I think not.”  

  
“Let me see Sherlock or the next person to visit this office will be John.  I cannot imagine he will be pleased that you are keeping Sherlock from him.”  Mary smiled as Mycroft stood as well.  

 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“Sherlock.”  

  
He tensed.  Mary.  Why was she here?  How had she gotten in?  Mycroft.  Why would Mycroft have let her in.  “What are you doing here?”  

  
Mary walked closer to Sherlock, who was sprawled on the couch.  “You are a fool.”  

  
Sherlock sat up and glared at her.  “Mary, what are you doing here?”  

  
Mary sighed and sank into another seat.  “You’re the brilliant consulting detective.  Figure it out.”  

  
He stared at Mary and frowned.  No obvious signs of stress or fatigue.  Slight weight gain, caused by pregnancy.  20% reduction of bags under eyes, has been sleeping properly.  Complexion slightly tanned.  Spent much of the honeymoon outside.  Faint scent of John’s cologne on her clothing, must have hugged after application.  

  
Mary shifted her position and crossed her legs.  “You really are a fool when it comes to people, aren’t you?”  Her lips curled in a slow smirk.  “I have been working for Charles Magnusen.”  She watched Sherlock’s expression form a complicated dance between horror, shock and fear before blankness settled over them.  

  
“My original job was to form a wedge between the two of you.  Drive you apart.  He hates you, you know.”  

  
“The feeling is quite mutual.”  Sherlock said, leaning forward to stare at her.  

  
Mary laughed.  “I am certain that it is.”  She looked down at her fingers and then to Sherlock again.  “My job was to lure John Watson away from you.  Your love for him is very obvious.  You have never learned to hide your heart, you instead pretended not to have one.”  

  
“I do not-”

  
“Spare me!”  Mary stood up and walked away from the couch.  “I have been honest with you Sherlock.  I deserve the same courtesy from you.”  

  
Sherlock stood as well, never letting his eyes leave Mary.  “Very well then.  You are correct.  Now, why are you telling me this?”  

  
“Because I am dying.”  Mary gave a simple shrug.  “I have perhaps...three months to live.  If I am lucky, and I rarely seem to be.”  

  
His mind raced.  Three months.  The baby would be five months old.  Likelihood of survival was-

  
“I’m not pregnant Sherlock.  A simple lie.  You do not think a nurse can fake pregnancy symptoms?”  Mary pushed her bangs back from her face and stared at Sherlock again.  “Do you know why I am telling you this Sherlock?”  

  
“No.”  

  
“Because John loves you.”  She watched Sherlock flinch and retreat towards the couch.  “Because Magnusen will not stop coming for you.  You need to protect John.”  

  
Sherlock narrowed his eyes.  “Why do you care…?”  He studied the sudden flood of guilt on her face, realization washing through him in an instant.  “Because you cared.  You cared for John.  That’s why he was kidnapped and put in that pyre.  You work for Magnusen.  You should have driven us apart, falling for John was never a part of that.  He would have known, would have realized.  He’s the reason you are dying.”  

  
Mary applauded.  “About time you caught on.”  

  
“That’s why you’re telling me this.”  Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her and stood.  “What is your next move?”  

  
“To bring you with me to our flat where I will tell John I am leaving, and everything I just told you.”  Mary shrugged and looked at Sherlock.  “Perhaps a shower first.”  

  
“If you were not already dying, I would kill you for hurting John.”  

  
“That’s how the vows work Sherlock.  Til death do us part.  I’m on my way out.  Might as well step aside for the obvious choice.  Now.  Shower and clean up.  And wear the purple shirt.  He likes that one best.”  

 

  
  
  
  
  
Sherlock stared across the cab at Mary.  

  
“Sherlock, stop looking at me like I am going to shoot you or John any moment.”  Mary looked out the window.  “John will be pissed at you.  Fair warning.  I might ask him to avoid the headbutt this time.”  

  
When the car stopped in front of John and Mary’s flat, Sherlock was out of the car within moments, striding up to the door.  He pressed the buzzer and smiled when John immediately granted them entry.  Third floor.  On the left.  

  
He stood in front of the door.  Sounds of Mary downstairs.  She would not be long.  He knocked.  The door swung open to reveal John.  Exhaustion.  Barely sleeping.  Nightmares.  Fatigue.  Poor eating habits.  Mild dehydration.  Eyes widening.  Shock.  Surprise.  Anger.  Just behind that, joy. Happiness.  Tension immediately disappearing.  

  
“Sherlock!  Where have you been?  Where’s Mary, she was going to try to-”  

  
Sherlock kissed John, slow and tender.  John froze, his mouth partially open.  Sherlock pulled away and stared at him.  “John.”  

  
“Sh-Sherlock, what are you, why are you-”  

  
“I lied to you John.”  Sherlock said, staring at him.  

  
“What?  About what?”  

  
“That I would only make one vow in my life.  I am making you another.  Here and now.”  He leaned close again, pressing John back against the wall.  Sixty seconds until Mary reached the apartment.  “I am never going to leave you, John Hamish Watson, again.”  Fifty seconds.  Sherlock sealed the promise with another kiss, this one much harder and desperate than the previous.  Thirty seconds.  John tilting his head to allow him to press closer.  Ten seconds.  Sherlock broke away for air.  “I promise.”  He whispered.    
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So when I first started writing this, I didn't expect the extraordinary amount of OMG PLOT to kinda jump up and bite me in the face. As a result this might have a sequel, or it might not. I'm not sure at the moment. Thoughts? Should there be a next bit? 
> 
>  
> 
> Comments and Criticisms welcome!
> 
> You can find me here: http://aria-lerendeair.tumblr.com/
> 
> You can also watch me write fics like this (and dozens of others) live! Follow me on Livestream for fics, shenanigans and a general all-around awesome time! http://new.livestream.com/accounts/7212317


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